


Five Times Nick Jonas Makes Logan Lerman Feel Weird

by pyrimidine



Category: Actor RPF, Disney RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-01
Updated: 2012-07-01
Packaged: 2017-11-08 22:32:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/448273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyrimidine/pseuds/pyrimidine





	Five Times Nick Jonas Makes Logan Lerman Feel Weird

**1.**  
  
After  _The Lightning Thief_  has its second or third international wave of openings, Logan gets an invitation to some 'Young Hollywood' function, meaning that the party's attendees are split between about 60% CW network, 35% Disney, and 5% other/people who'll eventually end up on the CW network. Still, it's the most high-profile party he's been to and he feels pretty awkward. There are people he knows and says hi to, but he walks in by himself after making his way through the swarm of photographers outside.  
  
Brandon is supposed to be there too, but he hadn't answered the text that Logan had sent him en route. Logan doesn't know if it's because Brandon hasn't seen it yet, or if he's actually still holding up his promise of refusing to answer any of Logan's texts unless he got a Twitter and like, _tweeted_  him. When Logan checks his phone again, the home-screen just lights up with the date and time.   
  
He makes a face at it. Freaking Brandon and his insistence of dragging Logan into a new-fangled technology that he doesn't want to be a part of.  
  
A few minutes later, he has a drink in his hand and has chatted up Aly from Aly & AJ -- some douchebaggy comments about relevance and what she's produced lately scrolled through his mind -- and that chick from the new  _90210_  -- she's showing a lot of side-boob and is super nice on top of that -- but he's seriously considering setting up a Twitter right there and then, just so he can bitch out Brandon for being a no show.  
  
He fiddles with his phone and gives a close-lipped smile with raised eyebrows to anyone who catches his eye; the fifth time, he does it to some girl he doesn't recognize and she mouths, "Oh my god," and doubles back the way she came from. Logan watches her disappear into the crowd before reemerging a few seconds later, this time pulling another girl by the arm. Only when they get too close does Logan recognize the second girl as Selena Gomez.  
  
"Here," says the first girl as she deposits Selena in front of Logan. Then she peaces out like there's no tomorrow.  
  
"Hi!" Selena beams without missing a beat. They shake hands and Logan barely remembers to lean in on time for Selena to give him a quick peck on the cheek.  
  
Dean was right. She's pretty freaking hot, even close up, with her smooth skin and strapless dress that hits about mid-thigh. Her shoes are probably worth his X-Box and all his games combined and they make her almost as tall as him. Seriously, hot. Unbelievable. Then the DJ starts spinning some weird remix of 'She Wolf' that's a little too trance-y for Logan's taste. He tries to compare all this to sitting in the cafeteria at lunch, sweating a little because hot-ass Tricia Michny is sitting one table over, eating a sandwich and occasionally meeting his eyes.  
  
"It's so nice to meet you!" she yells over the music.  
  
"You too," Logan says loudly. He angles himself to her side and she automatically leans in so that he can talk into her ear. He still has a loose grip around her wrist. "I know the whole thing got blown out of proportion, but I really do appreciate you saying all that nice stuff about the movie."  
  
"No, no, you deserve it," Selena says, pulling back a little so she can shake her head. "Seriously! The movie was awesome, I loved it."  
  
"Well, thanks." Logan grins. "So," he starts again, having no idea what the hell he's going to say next. Maybe he should tell her that he watches marathons of  _Wizards of Waverly Place_  when it's 2am and he's baked, except switch out some adjectives and stuff. Before he can, though, Selena moves suddenly to grab someone out of Logan's periphery and yank them to her other side.  
  
"Wow," says Nick Jonas, because it's totally Nick Jonas. "What'd I tell you about your Spiderman instincts?"  
  
Selena holds her free hand up like a claw. "Quick like a cat," she confirms. Logan finally remembers that he's still holding on to her; he tries to let go as stealthily as possible, but she turns her head and gives him a quick grin as he does so. Fail. "Logan, this is Nick. Nick, Logan," she says, gesturing between them.  
  
Nick holds his hand out. "Hey. Nice to meet you," he greets, and Logan echoes him. All he can think about is how they're the same age and almost the same height and Nick looks like The Hulk and Logan looks like a newborn colt.  
  
Then he marvels, "Nick  _Jonas_ ," out loud, like some dumbass.  
  
Selena rolls her eyes. "I know, right? Try not to let him get a big head about it while I go get some drinks." She raises her eyebrows and points both index fingers to her left before walking away.  
  
Both Nick and Logan watch her go. A slightly awkward silence takes her place before Logan turns to Nick and asks, "So, is this the part where you punch me in the face?"  
  
"Why would I do that?" Nick asks, looking a little startled.  
  
"I don't know. Isn't she like, your ex or something?" Logan hedges. He feels kind of stupid now. He reminds himself to erase JustJared off his internet bookmarks as soon as he gets home. "And also, if I had your arms I'd go around punching random things just because I could."  
  
Nick laughs. "No, it's not like that anymore. We tried it and it didn't work out. She's way cool though, I'm glad we're friends now."  
  
He says all this with the maturity of a 35-year-old man who's used to the dating world not quite working out like he hopes. Either he's fronting or he actually feels that way; Logan doesn't know which one would be weirder.  
  
"Sweet," he says, almost at the same time as Nick quickly asks, "Why, do you like her?"  
  
Logan pauses warily, noting that curiosity seems to trump media training every time. "You're not baiting me, are you?" When Nick shakes his head, Logan confesses, "Well, yeah dude, she's pretty damn hot. In fact, most of the people here are so hot that I'm having a little trouble functioning right now."  
  
Nick shrugs. "I don't know. I like my women to be a little older."  
  
"Like what, twenty?" Logan teases. "A 'Young Hollywood' function must not be your scene, then."  
  
"Yeah, I guess. I mean, being born in the 1960s is a good start," Nick says thoughtfully.  
  
"What?" Logan gapes. That is, until he backtracks a little and narrows his eyes. "Wait, you're messing with me."  
  
Nick smiles widely. It almost looks out of place, since his resting facial expression is that of someone who's annoyed about the complexities of super-string theory, but it looks really nice all the same. "I totally am," he says.  
  
Logan punches him on the shoulder out of reflex. Nick just brushes it off with his knuckles. "Sorry, thought there was a fly on my shirt."  
  
"Hey, seriously? I didn't know it was like that now," Logan says after a loud laugh because wow, he totally just got burned twice in a row by a Jonas brother.  
  
Nick shrugs and smiles again. The music has segued into a Katy Perry remix, which Logan points out to Nick, and then they talk about music for a bit. Selena never comes back with their drinks, Brandon never texts Logan back, and the music selection continues to go downhill throughout the night, but Logan doesn't mind. Turns out that Nick Jonas is actually a pretty sweet dude to hang out with.  
  
After the function wraps up, Nick gives Logan the number to his cell and then hops into a huge SUV before Logan can overanalyze what happened. The entire night feels like he was thrust into something and pulled right back out again almost immediately. He imagines himself to look like one of those confused dogs that just sits and shakes its head a lot. Started alone, talked to a few girls, ended with a guy. That's cool, though. Logan can roll with it.  
  
Of course, he doesn't know if he'll actually hang out with Nick, or see him around again, or even use the phone number. The only thing he can think about with clarity is that his publicist is probably going to shit himself in excitement over this whole thing.  
  
  
*  
  
  
 **2.**  
  
Logan munches on his salad, clinking his fork against the side of the plate and slowly sifting through a script with his other hand. He's lying on his stomach with his elbows digging into the mattress. Being able to wear boxers and an undershirt at two in the afternoon kind of rules. So does not having to shower.  
  
When his phone buzzes on the bedside table, he lets go of his fork and blindly reaches out for it. "Hello," he greets.  
  
"Hello," says Nick on the other end.  
  
Logan looks away from the script and smiles. "Hello," he says again. "Taking time out of your incredibly busy schedule to call me. I'm impressed, dude."  
  
"Yeah, well, charity work is part of what I do."  
  
"Asshole," Logan says amiably. He rolls onto his back, burps, then blows it into the phone. "So what's up."  
  
"Nothing much. Joe actually reserved a couple lanes for some bowling tonight, you wanna come?"  
  
"Yeah, for sure. You might say that it's right -- "  
  
"Don't," Nick groans.  
  
" -- up my alley," Logan finishes. "Come on, man, at least let me get the satisfaction of saying it."  
  
"I would, except Joe made the exact same stupid joke like, three minutes ago, so."  
  
"That guy's always stealing my thunder," Logan grumbles. "Hey, maybe I should go be friends with him."  
  
"The odds of you guys getting punched in the face would increase by one hundred percent," Nick points out. "Also, you would totally miss my wittiness and biting sarcasm."  
  
Logan lip-farts. "I could live without. You can go be mean to your thousand and one other friends."  
  
"I don't really have a lot of friends," Nick says offhandedly. "Besides Kev and Joe, I mean."  
  
At first it sounds sad and awkwardly candid and not at all what Logan had intended for Nick to say, but then he thinks about it and realizes that this is a dude who writes and records songs in two different bands, tours like 500 days out of the year, does a bunch of diabetes stuff, and most likely drives an ice cream truck to hand out free sugarless popsicles to kids on his days off. He probably doesn't have the time or energy to give a crap about anything else.  
  
Logan looks around his room.  _The Sea of Monsters_  doesn't start filming until a couple months, and his lifestyle is evidence of being jobless. Lots of dirty laundry everywhere that he'll pick up and wear again anyway. The cabinet is barfing up video games. Plates and cups on the desk. His mirror, with random lines of black drawn on it from one night where Logan had been bored and a little wasted and put eyeliner on his reflection.  
  
"Yeah, me neither," Logan says, and he's only half-lying because he only has friends when he's in school -- which he's not right now -- and Dean hasn't called him in like, weeks, because he's busy mooning over this one chick who does allergy medication commercials or whatever. Logan calls her Claritin Girl. He hasn't even met her yet. Dean is an asshole.  
  
"Everyone's an asshole," Logan adds.  
  
"Nah, just -- I don't know. I guess I like to do weird stuff, like play golf. Or bowl."  
  
Logan can practically hear Nick shrugging. "It's not weird. Bowling's not weird, man," Logan says. "And golf is just...geriatric, not weird."  
  
"Thanks, jerk," Nick laughs.  
  
Logan smiles at the ceiling. Like, it's not even a big deal. They're not BFFL and making each other Shrinky-Dink heart necklaces or anything. Nick is already filming the second season of his TV show, in addition to having hardcore song writing sessions with his brothers almost every day. Logan is -- well, he has more free time than Nick, but he's preparing for the  _Percy Jackson_  sequel and also trying to finish up his credits to graduate before the summer.  
  
So they're  _both_  busy, but Logan always picks up if Nick calls and vice versa, even though sometimes Logan has the feeling that he annoys Nick a lot. But whatever, it's cool. It feels like a casual friendship teetering on the edge of something else. Either they'll end up super close and actually make each other Shrink-Dink heart necklaces, or they'll have some spectacular fight and never talk to each other again. Logan's kind of scared to find out which one it is.  
  
He turns over onto his stomach again and resumes eating his salad. "Alright, I'll be over in a few hours."  
  
"Bring your bowling shoes and a towel to cry into when I beat you by like, a hundred points," Nick says. He hangs up.  
  
Logan texts,  _So charming_. He gets vinaigrette all over the keypad and feels a little dumb smiling at his phone, but he can't help it.  
  
  
*  
  
  
 **3.**  
  
When Nick finally gets a weekend off for the first time in forever, they film a short about one of those giant air-filled gumby dudes that people put up in car dealerships and stuff. The synopsis is that the gumby is actually alive, but he's all lonely and shit because nobody's there with him. Finally, at the end, the owner sells enough cars to buy another gumby dude and then the first guy isn't so lonely anymore. Nick's really good at imitating the wiggly arms, so he plays the part of Air Gumby #1. Logan plays the owner of the car dealership, a little girl, and Air Gumby #2.  
  
Logan doesn't mean to toot his own horn or whatever, but he's kind of in love with his own concept. Also, they get a lot of awesome shots in, like the night scene where the owner turns off the pump and Air Gumby #1 slumps to the ground all deflated and sad. Totally poignant.  
  
"Yeah, you're like, so deep. Like, totally," Nick says in a voice slightly higher than normal. "Who would have thought an eighteen year old could have come up with such a deep concept?"  
  
Logan points at him. "Hey, man. I will not hesitate to hire someone to beat you up."  
  
Nick laughs as Logan packs up the camera and scrolls through a mental list of people he knows. "Like Taylor Lautner. That guy can breakdance," Logan informs him. "He'll totally windmill your face off your face."  
  
"Please." Nick starts swinging his arms windmill-style while making dumb sounds effects like, "Putt putt putt putt putt putt." He's way more stupid and immature than the promo pictures and gigantic biceps lead people to believe. That is, when he's not busy acting like an old man.  
  
"God, you're so confusing to me -- stop. Stop it." Logan squints and bats at Nick's arms. "Ahh Jesus. Stop."  
  
He slings the camera bag over his shoulder and runs to Nick's car as a retreat. They make it through the rest of the day without incident, but the image of Nick flailing around keeps him awake that night when he's trying to sleep. It's really annoying.  
  
  
  
  
A couple days later, Logan comes over early in the morning to edit some stuff before Nick has to go into the studio to record some demos. Nick opens the door mid-yawn, his hair crazy curly and pressed flat on one side. He's wearing sweats with the elastic ankle part pulled over his feet.  
  
"Morning, sunshine," Logan greets. He's wearing basketball shorts, flip-flops, and an undershirt, but he says, "Fashion royalty, man, look at you."  
  
"Come on in," Nick yawns again. He shuffles into the kitchen, leaving Logan to close the door and follow him a few steps behind. "You hungry?" he asks with his back turned. The cabinets are already open, as if he'd been rummaging through them before Logan had arrived. He continues the process and pushes aside boxes of granola bars as Logan hops onto a stool, putting the camera bag and laptop on the counter.  
  
"Nah. Ate my balanced breakfast of Froot Loops." Logan pats his stomach, even though Nick can't see.  
  
He watches Nick reach the back of the cabinet without finding anything to his liking, apparently. Nick then opens the fridge, peering inside at the upper half before squatting down to have a look at the bottom shelves. He's wearing a thin white t-shirt that's wrinkled and unraveling at the bottom right hem, trailing thread tentacles onto his sweats. The shirt's ridden up enough that Logan can see smooth planes of skin and the muscle underneath. The stupid asshole even has back dimples.  
  
Nick finally pulls out a mini-fruit platter and pads over to the counter. He pops off the plastic lid and starts eating pineapple slices with his fingers, doing that thing where he stuffs food into his cheeks instead of swallowing it.  
  
Logan props his chin on his hand and squints at Nick. Nowadays there's this weird thing going on with him where he gets a strange tug in his belly if Nick so much as looks at him for more than a few seconds. But it's nothing, just Logan being a dude, his body riding the train to Boner-town before his brain has a chance to figure out what's happening. Logan's open-minded; it probably stems from a subconscious part of him that wants to  _be_  Nick or something like that.  
  
"We should get in a quick set of crunches before the editing," Nick suggests with his mouth full.  
  
Logan hems and haws and tries to get out of it by pointing out that Nick is eating breakfast right this second, and you can't work out  _after_  eating because there'll be cramps and throwing up and neither of those are conducive to gaining muscle weight.  
  
Ten minutes later, he finds himself lying on his back in the living room and making a mental note to buy self-help books that have to do with firmly saying, "No."  
  
"Count it off," Nick says. He's lying next to Logan and knocks Logan's knee with his own.  
  
Logan sighs. "Three, two, one."  
  
It's silent for a couple minutes -- a couple minutes, seriously, Logan is accidentally going to get in shape at this rate -- and it starts maybe feeling a little nice, getting his blood pumping this early in the morning with no bright lights and no TV blaring in the background and no strangers sweating all over him. He focuses on Nick's steady breathing, the sharp inhales and marginally quieter exhales.  
  
"I'm thinking we should actually record something," Logan finally grunts in between crunches. Now he feels like he's giving birth through his stomach, his muscles are cramping up so bad. It's going to be the  _Twilight_  baby up in here.  
  
"Sure. We've got the studio in the basement," Nick says, doing crunches at about twice the speed and half the struggle. "Don't pull your head up so much, you're going to strain your neck."  
  
"Why don't you just sell all your music shit and become a personal trainer? I bet you'd look real good with those microphone headset thingies," Logan suggests. "Sell some Gazelle Fitness Machines, Nick. Sell them like your life depended on it."  
  
"Being sarcastic doesn't build muscles," Nick replies. The stupid prick sounds like he's sunning and having a relaxing day at a beach somewhere. "But that's cool, some people might like petite guys. Maybe."  
  
"God, you're such -- a prick," Logan huffs. But he starts coming up a little higher and a little faster, and even though he still doesn't know what his core muscles are, he can feel his abs burning into hot lava so it's probably working.  
  
"Nice," Nick comments. He sounds a little out of breath but not winded by any means.  
  
Still. Logan'll take what he can get.  
  
  
*  
  
  
 **4.**  
  
As if he already isn't a real life Superman, Nick had offered to give piano lessons to Logan.  
  
"Just half an hour," Nick had prodded. "Before workouts. Huh? Come on."  
  
Logan had been lying on Nick's bed with his head hanging off the side. He liked the feeling of pressure building up behind his eyeballs. "I'm really your new pet project, man," he'd said in a slightly strangled voice.  
  
He doesn't remember actually agreeing to it, which is why it's strange that they're in the Jonas's basement studio right now, with Logan on the piano bench and Nick sitting on a drum throne next to him. Nick seems super stoked though, so Logan figures he can suck at piano for a while every week for Nick's sake.  
  
"E-flat major, two octaves," Nick prompts.  
  
"Um."  
  
"Remember the circle of fifths," Nick says impatiently.  
  
Logan gives him a dumb look. "Circle of life? Like  _The Lion King_?"  
  
He drops the act and nearly falls off the piano bench as he tries to avoid Nick's foot. The kid has bony ankles that hit its intended target 99% of the time. "Okay, okay. Right hand only, though," he declares as he starts playing.  
  
"I feel like you're going to have to start paying me if you want to -- thumb under, two, three, good -- if you want to keep learning from the master," Nick says as Logan finishes up the scale. "Descending, too," he orders.  
  
"What the hell," Logan complains, but he starts going back down the scale. "Yeah, okay, I'll pay you. Blowjays or nipple clamps, whichever you want."  
  
B-flat, A-flat, G. Logan's thumb plops down hard on the note as he glances quickly at Nick, who's just sitting there with the corner of his mouth turned up. Logan never knows if it's supposed to be a knowing smile, or the kind that indicates supreme discomfort.  
  
Either way, Logan's stomach feels a little tight. Probably a combination of that taqueria food he had for lunch and the devil's workouts that Nick has him running through.  
  
He turns back to the piano and concentrates on the last few notes. "Secret option three: anal beads it is, then. I forgot about your overflowing collection of nipple clamps," Logan rambles. Black, black, white, white, black. He really needs to learn how to shut up.  
  
"Yeah, and also the fact that I'm constantly getting blowjobs," Nick says in that stupid deadpan way of his. It's stupid because Logan doesn't know how to react until he takes a cue from Nick first. A lot of the time, finds himself wanting to ask,  _What are you thinking?_  
  
But in this case, he only sneaks in a couple side glances and breaks into a big smile as soon as Nick's mouth twitches. Still, Logan's heart is beating kind of hard.  
  
The taqueria food. Heartburn. Definitely.  
  
  
*  
  
  
 **5.**  
  
Dean had stashed the bottles under Logan's bed with strict orders not to open them, which Logan had promptly ignored as soon as Dean had left. They're some crappy wine cooler stuff, judging by the fact that the drinks are the color of tropical flowers.  
  
"Looks gross, but I want to drink it just to spite Dean. He ate an entire box of my Chicken Bakes once and left the empty box in the freezer to trick me," Logan explains.  
  
"Man, those are disgusting," Nick laughs, strumming a few chords on Logan's guitar. The strings are practically rusted over but Nick still gets some pretty good tones out of it.  
  
"Excuse you," Logan gasps like he's horribly offended. Nick just plays a song that Logan thinks he vaguely recognizes as a Tom Waits song.  
  
Logan's nervous but he can't pinpoint why. Nick has had champagne a few times before, at birthday parties and Kevin's wedding, so it's not like this counts as debauching someone. Plus, it's Boone's Farm, which is essentially juice. No debauching whatsoever.   
  
Anyway. Logan has heard that Boone's Farm is a rite of passage and he wants to rite this particular passage, even though he's had other alcohol before. He says so out loud.  
  
"Are you sure, though?" Nick puts the guitar aside and picks up one of the bottles. He frowns at the label.  
  
"Oh yeah, it's totally a rite of passage." Logan takes the bottle from him and examines the label as well. "I wonder if there really is a Strawberry Hill. Or a Mango Grove."  
  
He poses the question again after he's polished off his bottle and half of Nick's at his own insistence, since the sugar content is through the roof. His face feels sort of hot. Also, he feels like he's going to throw up because he drank it so fast. Hopefully that feeling will go away soon. "Seriously, where is it? Where is this mystery Strawberry Hill? Hey, tell me if you're feeling sick because the sugar, okay, these things are full of 'em."  
  
"On Boone's Farm, maybe," Nick answers a little loudly. He's lying on his stomach, half on the rug and half not, while Logan is listlessly spinning himself around in his desk chair.  
  
The tips of Nick's ears are pink. Logan finds himself staring at them, and then at his curly hair.  
  
He finally zones back in to the conversation and says, "We should build one, if one doesn't exist already."  
  
"Yeah. And decorate it with like, red grass so it looks like an upside down strawberry." Nick buries his head in his arms about halfway through the sentence. His words sound all weird and muffled, like they're in a cave.  
  
"You're humoring me," Logan accuses.  
  
Nick turns his head slightly so that he can peek out at Logan. "I'm always humoring you."  
  
"Dude, I humor you so much. I exercise because you told me to! That's friendship."  
  
Nick starts giggling, huffing little puffs of air into the rug.  
  
"Exactly." Logan starts nodding as he curls and uncurls his fingers rapidly in a 'come on' gesture. "And I'm not even seeing results. At this point I think you're just lying to me. Take off your shirt, Jonas. Let me see those biscuits, if they even  _exist_."  
  
"Seriously?" The giggles segue into full laughter.  
  
"Oh wait, no, my bad. No, you're underage, that's all bad. Bad news bears."  
  
Logan suddenly stops talking because it hits him that he's flirting. This kind of shit reminds him of being a kid; he and Dean would stand at a careful distance from Dean's neighbor's dog, which was sometimes leashed to a tree, and then they'd prod the air around the dog with sticks until it lunged toward them with a terrifying bark and a rattle of metal, at which point they'd scream and run away. Rinse and repeat.  
  
He slides off the chair and lies down instead, settling his hands over his stomach and closing his eyes. Pretty much effectively sticking his head in the sand.  
  
Nick isn't laughing anymore. Logan can hear him scooting around a bit. When he opens his eyes, he sees that Nick has propped himself up on his elbows so that his face is hovering directly above Logan's own. He's upside down. It looks weird.  
  
"Are you going to Spiderman kiss me?" Logan asks faintly.  
  
Then he shuts up because that is exactly what happens. Some grunty, caveman part of his mind notes that there's way less tongue than the original Spiderman kiss. But still, Nick's lips are touching Logan's. Mostly, they're just breathing on each other. But the whole lip thing is happening too.  
  
And then just as quickly, it's not.  
  
Logan blinks his eyes open. "Whoa." He scrambles to get up, probably turning in like, five unnecessary directions in order to do so, but eventually he's sitting up on his knees. "Whoa, wait. What? You -- what?"  
  
Nick is sitting cross-legged, not looking at Logan. He chews on his lip a little as he grimaces. "This was," he starts, but then he drops his head into his hands, elbows digging into his knees. It's the most helpless position that Logan has ever seen him in.  
  
Logan walks forward on his knees. "Hey," he says awkwardly, after a pause. He hesitates again before reaching out and laying his hand over the back of Nick's neck. "Hey," he says once more, rubbing a little with his fingers. He's still a bit buzzed; he thinks about the fact that he hasn't even washed his hands since morning. They're in no condition to be rubbing somebody's neck. "Nick."  
  
He hopes to god that Nick isn't crying or anything. Oh god, he seriously hopes Nick isn't crying. Logan almost passes out in relief when Nick finally raises his head. He looks tired and embarrassed and nothing else.  
  
"Why are you  _laughing_?" Nick asks sharply.  
  
"Because, just -- man, I don't know," Logan says, the grin still tugging at the corner of his mouth. His hand is resting on the back of Nick's neck. He uses his other hand to scrape through Nick's hair before sort of clumsily palming the side of Nick's jaw and leaning in. He overbalances though, and ends up pushing Nick onto his back by accident.  
  
Nick grunts a little when Logan settles on top of him, one leg in between Nick's. Their shoes knock together. "What?" Logan asks right away. "Are you freaking out?"  
  
"Aren't you?" Nick asks. Then he says, "No, you're just heavy."  
  
"Um, what. I'm so wispy you shouldn't even be feeling this."  
  
"Yeah, but you still weigh a lot."  
  
"Must be all the muscle weight," Logan muses.  
  
Nick gives him a tentative smirk. "You're welcome."  
  
"Shut up, god," Logan tells him. He touches Nick's eyebrow, then kind of smears his thumb over his cheekbone. Nick just stares up at him, patient and calm.  
  
Logan moves his leg a little; Nick clears his throat. "Are you freaking out?" Logan asks again, more serious this time.  
  
Nick shakes his head silently.  
  
"Okay," Logan says, more to himself. He repeats it: "Okay," and then he ducks down to kiss Nick, carefully, slowly, giving it time to sink in. Nick's cologne is almost faded away, but he smells clean. It's a Tuesday night and Logan is on top of Nick, kissing him.  
  
He draws back. "Still not freaking out," Nick says quietly. He's actually smiling pretty big.  
  
Logan softly presses his thumb into the divot right underneath Nick's lower lip and smiles back.  
  
  
*  
  
  
So yeah, this might mean they'll have to make Shrinky-Dink necklaces for each other in the future, but it's okay. Good thing Logan loves arts and crafts.

  



End file.
